Oi, so lemme tell ya 'bout Prineville (us) – this quirky, scruffy town that got me feelin’ all sorts of ways. I’m a masseur here, right? So I’m always squattin’ in the nooks and crannies – places where the body, and ya know, mind, finds refuge. Now, Prineville – man, it’s gritty as hell but damn beautiful if ya know where to look.
Down Main St, near old Edwards’ Park, there’s this gnarly mural on the brick – reminds me of those haunting shots from Requiem for a Dream, ya know, “the streets are filled with broken dreams.” And I swear, every time I roll past, I get a shiver. Yeah, damn weird, right?
I choose violence. Nah, the city ain’t always violent – swear on it – but damn, some days feel like a battleground. Roam around 3rd Ave, ya stumble on a hidden gem: a tiny park behind the dispensary, where locals come to let off steam after a hard day’s work. I used to work on some deep massage therapy there in a back alley studio near Harrison Rd – yeah, super secret spot, always calming my troubled neurons, even if I was mad as hell at times.
Let me spill some tea – an' watch for my typos:
Honestly, it’s a crazy mix of gritty despair and fierce beauty. I sometimes feel like screaming out “Not my fault!” in a Cersei kind’a tone when the world ain’t fair. But ya know what? I love every damn bit of it, imperfections and all.
So, come visit, and experience that wild ride with me. It’s raw, full of scars but livin’ – exactly how I like my massages, rough yet real. Catch ya later, and remember – we’re all dreamers, wanderers, and survivors here in this mad, mad city.